Partners Against Crime
by 2DaughtersOfAthena
Summary: AU Muggledom fic. Detectives Malfoy and Granger are investigating the murder of Lavender Brown, exemplary Psychology student.


**AU Muggledom story in which Draco and Hermione are homicide investigators. Ages are different here - Tom Riddle is as he was as the memory in Chamber of Secrets, Parvati/Lavender/Cho/Luna are of the same age of about 19.**

 **Written for the Houses Competition Year 2. House: Ravenclaw, Position: Head of House, Themed Additional Piece, Prompt: "She was unconscious when I found her." WC: 4183 (as per GDocs)**

 **0-0-0-0**

"You don't actually expect me to eat your garbage food instead of going out and buying something decent, do you?" Draco asks, glaring at my salad and crisps combination. Just because he's far too high and mighty to consider quick food in the middle of a working day. I throw him a packet of crisps and a banana, leaving him scowling ferociously at me. He doesn't touch either of them. "This is foul, you know that?"

"So, leave," I tell him, finishing up my salad. "I eat what I want to eat. You're not in charge of that."

"Maybe I'll order in," he muses.

"Good luck with that." Draco smiles curtly at my response and starts flicking through his mobile for a telephone number.

Within seconds of Malfoy's exuberant shout of relief, having found a place he likes, Lieutenant Shacklebolt, the Precinct Captain is stalking through to our area, a phone against his ear and waving his other hand in our direction. My attention is caught immediately, thinking about the potential case on our way. Shacklebolt is nodding and mumbling a discourse of agreement with the person on the other end of the call. Malfoy is cancelling the food. And, eventually, Shacklebolt fills the silence with a direct, "Detectives. New case opened up at the university Campus. Ms. Weasley is going to meet you there." Malfoy opens his mouth. "You can fix food on the way."

"Yes sir," I say, quickly grabbing my gun and swerving around for the packet of crisps. Maybe I shouldn't be so determined for food at this time, but I don't know how long this will take. Plus, Malfoy is very likely to complain if he gets no food and becomes sporadically hungry. Such is life. We've been working together for just about three years now ever since graduating from the Police Academy together eight years ago. Same graduation ceremony, five years of working our way to up to Detective, then three years of being partners. Every day is as exhausting as the last, but there's something about Draco that's very different from the snobbish, self-important boy of the Academy. In the Academy, he had been arrogant and more concerned with physical abilities that had only increased from the brutal training. Now, he uses his brain more and actually thinks through things before going full-charge against the world. And he certainly no longer talks about his parents so much - which was always a bit weird.

It takes us ten minutes of marginally reckless driving on Malfoy's part before we reach the scene of the crime, adorned with officers and tape. The first ones here. I remember doing that. Turning up and finding whatever awful thing had happened. The suicides, the murders, and the killing sprees.

The officers direct us inside the student housing from which everyone has been evacuated. Two floors up. Fourth room along. Already I can hear the cracking of a camera flash snapping photos of the deceased and their surroundings. Filling the void between shots, the murmurs of suspicions. How it happened, when it happened, who did it, who she was, and what she was doing the night before. Whether these things had anything to do with the investigation we will carry out.

"Detective Granger," Ginny Weasley greets me as I step into the brightly decorated room, adorned with bold posters and multi-coloured furniture. She's already wearing her blue plastic gloves, flaming red hair tied back from her face. "And Malfoy."

"Ginny," I smile back.

"Detective Malfoy to you, Weasley," Draco mutters as a passing comment, moving around me and into the room to look at the body closer. "What have we got?"

It's funny. Malfoy can be a complete child when it comes to standing around in the precinct, wanting for nothing and demanding attention constantly. Yet, as soon as we arrive on the new case, it's back to business with him. He won't be distracted by semantics or many other things whilst there. It's quite a fascinating change, actually. He's a valuable partner.

In the centre of the room is the body, brown hair fanned out around her, laying atop an Aztec pattern rug. She looks dressed for a night out, bold red shoes matching the bodycon dress I recognise from a high-street retail store. I glance around her at the modern art on the walls - cheap, charity shop knockoffs - and the gaudy throws over plain living area. Student housing made infinitely worse by poor decoration choices.

Ginny, ever the professional-forensic-scientist, goes straight into the detail.

"Nineteen-year-old female, Lavender Brown. Been dead about seven hours from the discoloration of the skin and fingernails. Some grazing to the knees and elbows, bruising around the neck and hairline, but that's not all." Ginny brushes the girl's hair back, squatting to beside the body. I lean closer to get a good look. "There's this. I didn't notice it at first, but it looks pretty bad. From toxicology preliminaries, I would guess it's insanely strong, nothing I've seen used on a person before."

"Jesus," Draco mutters, peering closer.

Following the lines of her veins and arteries are thick green lines. As if her body had been filled with food colouring.

"Poison?" I ask, staring.

"Most definitely," Ginny confirms. "No idea what it is yet, so we're going to take samples."

"Good idea," Malfoy says. I nod in agreement. "Who's that in the corner? Boyfriend? Roommate?"

I follow Malfoy's line of sight. Tall, dark-haired, handsome. Glancing over at the body as though it's heightened some kind of nervous disposition. He doesn't look suspicious, but in the case of homicides it could be anyone with any motive. He wipes tiredly at his eyes, talking to a kindly officer — Marion Allis, who's never been anything but lovely to everyone I know. He's upset. About as old as the victim, possibly younger. Draco is already walking over, the supercilious swagger in him, his dark trousers looking utterly out of place in this mismatching display of colour.

"Marion," he greets her easily, allowing an introduction to rise to her lips before cutting to the chase. "Detective Granger and I need to have a chat with...?"

"Tom," she supplies helpfully.

"Tom, lovely," Malfoy says. Then he pats her on the back somewhat patronisingly, watching her leave. Introducing himself to Tom, he adds a little more spirit to his demeanour. "Tom! You're the roommate, correct? I'm Detective Malfoy, and this is Detective Granger." We shake hands and I notice that the boy is shaking and clammy. Must be the shock of it all. We'll move this along as quickly as possible.

"Tom Riddle," the boy answers shakily. "Yeah. Roommate."

"How well did you know Miss Brown?" I ask, glancing back at the body temporarily as the bright yellow sheet is thrown over her. "Have you been roommates for long?"

"About six months – since Freshers' week."

"So, the beginning of September?" Malfoy interjects, his hands tucked casually in his pockets. Tom wipes a pale and shaking hand over his face, nodding. "What was she like as a roommate? Quiet? Loud? Busy?"

Tom thinks for a second before replying. "I don't really know. She was out a lot of the time, and her classes were at different times to mine." He pauses again, glancing towards the body. "So, I would get up as she was asleep or unconscious on the couch. She liked to party. When I came back for lunch and afternoon, she'd be in class. The room would oscillate between us. It worked great." Riddle almost smiles then, albeit weakly.

"Did Lavender have any enemies? Anyone who might have done this on purpose?" Malfoy asks, shuffling his feet in a second power pose of the conversation.

"Not that I know of."

"And any friends you know who might have been out with her?" Tom riddle shakes his head.

"Alright."

Just as we're turning away, Tom calls out to us,

"She was unconscious when I found her... But she's always unconscious when I come in. I didn't think anything of it."

On our way out, Ginny tells us that she'll call if anything new comes up on the crime scene. We begin discussing theories en route; the roommate did it, one of her friends, it was an accident. But what was the motive? We definitely need to find out more about her to put together a good case and uncover the truth of what's gone on here.

"The one thing that really bothered me about that scene," Malfoy muses, "is that the kid was still standing around. He's eighteen and stayed on the crime scene while they were taking photos of his dead friend. Seems pretty weird."

"Yeah, you're right."

Together, Malfoy and I traipse the University campus, first finding the Dean and requesting information on Lavender Brown — her classes and schedule, people involved in her mentorship for the Psychology course, any friends. I take photos of the files while Malfoy asks the questions — what was she like, did she hang around with anyone sketchy, did she ever get in trouble for things — to which the Dean deflects.

"I'm sorry, Detective, but I'm Dean to 20,000 students. You'd have to speak to her classmates and her friends."

We shake hands, thank him for our time, hand the files back, and move on. Around us there is some sort of bubble of suspicions about why we're there - presumably about whose drugs we're busting or who is being escorted off-campus for one reason or another. Either that, or news travels faster than the speed of light here. In actual fact, we're storming our way to the Freudian Centre, where all but one of Lavender Brown's Psychology lectures take place, and where one should be happening as we speak.

Voices holler from inside the room. "Alright everyone, listen up. Today we're going to be exploring the possibility of a Mind Palace - yes, Felicia, like Sherlock Holmes - and maybe seeing if we can harness our own." I prompt Draco to knock, indicating with my nose in the direction of the wood. Two sharp raps against the door, then we enter. "Excuse me, what are you doing here?"

"Professor Thornton, we're with the Police. We need to speak with you," I say into the frozen silence.

"I'm in the middle of a class," he argues weakly, stunned.

"And I'm afraid it can't wait."

Hamish Thornton shifts his eyes between Malfoy and myself, then at our badges, and finally to his class, each of whom are eagerly awaiting the next part of this extremely exciting intrusion.

"Class, the Mind Palace will have to be put on hold while I have a chat with these lovely people outside. Please, talk amongst yourselves." He leads the way back out of the classroom and several steps down the long, panelled hallway. "How can I help?"

"Lavender Brown. Do you know her well?" Draco asks, getting right to the point. The Professor's face lights up instantly.

"Oh my, well enough to know she's the brightest student I've ever had." _Well that is a shame._ "She is an absolute gem in the lecture halls, superb essay writing, and a really brilliant mind. Fascinating." He looks between us. "Is there something the matter?"

"Miss Brown was found dead this morning by her roommate." The Professor gasps at Draco's brash words, eyes welling, hand at his mouth in shock. "We're sorry. We just need to know of anyone who might have caused this, or somehow been involved."

"You're saying she was _murdered?"_

"We suspect," I amend quickly. "There were a few indicators to suggest."

The Professor settles down slowly, leaning against the wall of his lecture theatre. He's thinking. Above us, the lights flicker, sending sparking shadows over the walls and windows of the hallway. I tug the corner of my shirt, nervous. Desperately hoping he has some answers and that maybe we can find something other than suspicions and non-absolutes. For all we know at the moment, it could have been suicide. "Okay... Okay, ask anything you want."

"Did she seem happy here?"

"Oh yes, she absolutely loved it from what I could tell," the Professor begins, smiling vaguely. "She has always been enthusiastic in class, delivered excellent essays. Plenty of friends, bit of a weird roommate, but nothing especially out of the ordinary. Never seemed anything other than positive and extremely eager to learn." He pauses. "She wasn't unhappy or depressed, as far as I know. From what I've seen this year, she was on track to complete a First Honours degree with ease."

"Impressive," Draco muses. "And your whereabouts last night?"

"I was here, marking papers. It's Student Night on a Thursday which means they're all out and about and I can get everything done so much quicker. I was in the room from... 12:30 pm, which is half an hour before the class started, they all left at 3pm. Research until 5pm when the next class was... Ordered in food at 8pm and finished extra research papers and marking at around 1am."

"Sorry. You said her roommate was weird? How so?" I ask, blocking Draco's next question. He doesn't glare at me, as I thought he might.

"She said he liked to perform in the open spaces of the dorm all the time – he's a drama student. He's got this big collection of old Shakespearean manuscripts and practically won't leave them in the dorm for long periods of time alone. Quite obsessive behaviour and – if you excuse my Layman's terms – very odd." I nod, and catch Draco making a note of something in his phone. Then he's excusing himself, tapping a number into the dialling pad and walking briskly away, out of sight. "Is there something the matter, Detective?"

"He probably just thought of something he needed to ask the tech team," I assure him. "Go on."

"They were on alternating schedules that meant they rarely saw each other. But I remember her telling me about how he would act out the scenes in the middle of the living space, pretty much ignoring her, and disturbing the entire dorm. This was pretty much whenever he was there."

"Okay, thank you. Is there anyone who Lavender would have been out with last night? Do you know of any really good friends of hers?"

I arrive back at the car park ten minutes later, a list of names in my pocket and having tried to call Malfoy to no avail. He's waiting at the car, talking to someone on his phone still, a serious expression masking him. The air bites at my cheeks, leaving them chapped. It's far too cold outside now for it to be remotely pleasant, especially as we're investigating a death that is looking gradually more like a murder - with the roommate as a key suspect.

"I spoke with Ginny," Malfoy starts off, getting in the car in the passenger side and allowing me to slide in next to him before he continues. "Those old Shakespearean manuscripts are the reason he hadn't left the crime scene. Apparently, they're 18th and 19th Century copies, both in text and hand-written, director's notes, actor editions. All that fanboy stuff." I laugh, changing gear as we pull out of the University and start heading back to the precinct. Trust Malfoy to make me laugh on a gruesome murder case. Then again, he does every day. "Weasley sent me the photos of the crime scene, which includes images of the bookshelf. He's got all the classics - Othello, Macbeth, Hamlet, Lear... All those powerhouse revenge stories."

"Interesting," I muse. "Prompt enough for a murder?"

"Or possibly just someone who's obsessive over Shakespeare and every breath, bogie, and boner he ever had."

"Gross!"

That part of the conversation over, Malfoy stays silent for the rest of the ride back to the precinct. As usual, I sing quietly along to the tracks on my latest CD, too comfortable in his presence, thinking over the details of the case in my head. Halfway back, we hit traffic, causing Malfoy to grumbles. He's always been a bit ridiculously concentrated when he's on a case, but then there are other times when he's just all over the place. When we're on a case and doing well, he's anything like any other friend. Because there's a partnership between us and it's been unshakable so far. But as soon as we're away from work - at lunch, or accidentally meeting in the street - he's dismissive and rude. Somehow, we work. Somehow, in spite of who he was and who he can be, we've actually made brilliant partners and I tolerate - sometimes enjoy - his presence outside of work.

As ever, the precinct is bustling on the inside, contrasting the dull, granite exterior. Officers rush in from the streets, bringing their new arrests to be filed correctly at a chosen desk. Case files strewn over storyboards in an attempt to understand what had happened. Detectives pile into the labs to get their reports, which is exactly where we are heading now. Ginny Weasley is hard at work, making notes on laminated sheets, filing away everything that was collected from the crime scene earlier today. Key problem number one is that this case came in late in the day, and we ideally need to speak to the victim's friends before the day is up - which is in about three hours.

"Detectives," Ginny greets, smiling half-unpleasantly. "I'll make it quick. I found a match with the poison–"

"Fantastic!"

"I matched it with an extremely potent poison named Phodesyl, street name "The Hulk" for its green colouring and the after-effects it produces, such as the green vomit, and flooding of body with the gooey, green deposit that was found when they did the post-mortem downstairs."

"That's disgusting," Malfoy comments.

"Yeah, it was. And I also looked up recent cases with this poison, and it's not that common. It's high-grade danger so only sold black-market, but it can be brewed at home with the right stuff. Seems ridiculous, I know. But I checked and the recipe is practically inaccessible on the internet. Whoever had it either paid a hefty price or it was 'toil and trouble' in their house." She laughs shortly. "Anyway. I couldn't find any of the poison residue in the apartment when I was there, but I can always go back and check with a team."

Malfoy's nodding alongside me, taking it all in. I can see that thought process behind his eyes, analysing what else we need to know to proceed. I interrupt his thoughts, "Did you find any fingerprints on the body that matched?"

"Not yet, but they're still scanning. The neck bruising was so light that it's proving really difficult to find distinctive marks."

I check my watch. "We should go. But thank you so much. Can you text me a list of the ingredients?"

We move together, out of the precinct and towards the parking lot.

"While you were faffing about driving," Malfoy starts, back in the car and on our way to the university again. "I looked at Lavender's info-files. No complaints or issues were ever made about her. There's nothing on her track record that states a reason as to why anyone would have a problem with her. The only thing that flags up is that she moved out of her original dorm - with a girl named Parvati, with no reason given on the form. Now the two are supposedly best friends."

"So?"

"Have you not heard the phrase, Granger?" he asks, incredulous. I roll my eyes in response. "Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer."

"You think this might have been something she did?"

"It's a possibility. It's who we're going to see now, isn't it?"

The walls around us reverberate with highly-powered music systems, and glasses clink atmospherically in neighbouring dorms. These parties are thousands of light years away from the silent crying of the three girls in front of Draco and me. Parvati, Luna, and Cho. They wipe at their eyes, trying to describe the previous evening. Draco doesn't try to look concerned, but is openly assessing Parvati with one eyebrow raised and a hand on his gun. In other words, he looks completely ridiculous. They seem completely shocked about her death, which is usually a tell-tale sign that they had nothing to do with it. Also, shocking that no one has told them yet.

"We always look out for each other's drinks," Parvati whispers, as if horrified by the thought that this might have been an incident on their girls' night. "We go out almost every night, and not always go get rip-roaring drunk or anything like that. For a laugh. For coffee, or water, or a glass of wine in a classy bar."

"I've never really liked clubbing," Luna says, her eyes misty.

"Lavender was a party girl at heart," Parvati repeats the third time tonight. "But last night she only had water, and got back normal time at 2am. Said she was wanting to stay sober so she could sleep easier."

"And she mentioned something about her roommate, Tom Riddle," Cho remembers. "She was going to practice with him for a scene he was performing today. Something from Shakespeare - Hamlet... Or..."

"Othello," Luna interrupts. "And he's a method actor so he likes to get completely in role beforehand."

Malfoy and I share a glance, a knowing look. It just seems too coincidental. But does it prove that he lied? Just then, my ringtone tears apart the silence. It's not a surprise to see that it's Ginny. I step outside, leaving Draco alone with the three girls.

"Hey Gin." The nickname rolls easily off my tongue.

"Hermione! I just remembered, I never told you about the potion time. You know, the time it takes for the poison to act and kill the victim! It completely passed me by!" she shouts down the phone. "The poison would have been administered around two hours before the time of death - about 4 a.m. A little bit of a closer scan of the bruising shows male fingers that are quite thin - so a feminine male, if that makes sense. I also think that the strangulation bruising wasn't part of the death, or not the intention. But play-fighting that got out of hand?"

"So, if someone was pretending to strangle her?" I ask.

"Exactly!... Hermione, is everything okay?"

"Yeah. I gotta go!"

I run back inside, panicking. It has to be him. I remember the long, pale fingers swiping back his hair. The copies of the most tragic and destructive plays Shakespeare ever wrote. And Othello. I studied it in high school, those many years ago, and I remember the final scenes of Othello and Desdemona in her bedchamber. Where he threatens that he will poison her because she's too perfect and a violent death would not be fitting. But then he strangles her and tries to cover it up. Unsuccessfully, I might add.

"Why would he not have strangled her to death, if your theory is that he's playing out Desdemona's death?" Draco asks, me having explained this idea to him.

"No, I don't think so. Because Othello originally thinks that poison is the best way forward, and there are so many critics that say the strangulation is a manipulation too far. Maybe Riddle thought so too, and wanted to correct the mistake Othello made by changing the ending slightly. Maybe he was too far in character, or something?"

"Or maybe he's a psychopath and her doing the dishes wrong made him murderous." I don't laugh because at this point it's really not funny. "Either way. Is this the room?" Draco knocks on the classroom door, from which hollers indicate audience participation being encouraged. He opens it and the entire scene freezes, students caught mid-shout, and the Professor with his hands wide in jubilation. Talented students perhaps causing such joy. "We need to speak to Tom Riddle."

"We," the Professor begins, eyes wide and smile unfaltering. "Are in the middle of a class!"

"It's urgent," I demand.

"Tom is ill!" the Professor declares, shaking his head in dismay. "He wasn't here this morning and I doubted he would be in again this evening as he _never_ misses a class!"

We're gone before the Professor can shout after us.

"Where could he be?" Malfoy asks desperately as we're running from the halls towards the halls of residence. "If not the dorm?"

In the pitch black of the night cloaking itself around us, Malfoy's are the last words I hear before the smashing, cracking, weight of something unknown crashes against my head. I blank for a second, staring at Draco in confusion, his open mouth and stormy grey eyes looking at something I can't see, and reaching out. I see blurring stars on the horizon. But then it's a pale, unsmiling face of Tom Riddle leaning over me, and I'm tumbling towards the asphalt. As the darkness and the heaviness sets in completely, I'm uncertain as to whether I will ever wake again.

 **0-0-0-0**

 **Thanks for reading!**


End file.
